


Stop Running

by centaurianwisdom



Series: Stop Running [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confident Alec Lightwood, Head of the Institute Alec Lightwood, High Warlock of Brooklyn Magnus Bane, Hurt Magnus Bane, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Magnus Bane Needs A Hug, Out of the Closet Alec Lightwood, Sad Magnus, Vulnerable Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaurianwisdom/pseuds/centaurianwisdom
Summary: Magnus has lead a life full of tragedy with occasional sparks of happiness.He would like to close himself off to happiness so he doesn't have to experience the inevitable fall.But a certain persistent Shadowhunter breaks down his walls and burrows deep into his heart, and Magnus is powerless to stop him. Maybe he doesn't want to. Stop him, that is.





	Stop Running

**Author's Note:**

> I think Magnus Bane deserves to be pursued and wooed. I also realise that i should be the change i want to see in this world. Hence my humble offering. I hope y'all like it!

Magnus Bane has lived a long, long life. And sometimes he floats through decades like they are nothing but days in an average mundane’s life. And sometimes there is happiness, like bright flashes of colours, filled with smiles and blue skies. But the sadness that followed these short days of happiness stretched on, dreary and leading nowhere.

Maybe if he didn’t feel happy, he would never be sad. Because the high lasts but a moment, but the fall is forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Was there ever a time when he was really, truly pursued for himself?

His many lovers chose to ignore his demonic heritage, cat-eyes, his tragedy. People saw his face: the sharp jawline and the almond eyes, the dark, shiny, smooth hair and the pouty lips and the golden skin; his chiselled body (which was a result of him doing gruelling exercises to escape his own head); or the glamour and the wealth and the makeup and the clothes or, most commonly, his magic.

“Fix my broken heart, Magnus,” she said, with tears in her eyes and red blossoming in her cheeks. He gave her a calming potion coupled with a targeted memory potion that took away all her memories of her dead mother.

“Portal me to Paris, Warlock,” said the sanctimonious Shadowhunter of his city’s local institute. Magnus sighed and snapped his fingers and conjured the portal. The Shadowhunter vanished without looking back.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” moaned the seelie who had parted her legs for him after a night of revelry, and swallowed his cock in the most satisfying way. “So good, such a good little warlock.” Magnus fucked her harder, driven past the edge of desire for such a beautiful creature. He stroker hair long, auburn hair away from her face and followed the long line of her collarbone. She screamed as she climaxed. She was gone the next morning. Because he couldn’t even make a seelie stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was sweating bullets of blackened brine, biting his lip to keep back the screams of pain, of terror, of the impending doom that would kill him if he didn’t have Camille’s bite now, now.

Ragnor carefully wiped the black sweat from his body, his magic straining to keep Magnus bound to the soaked bed. Catarina frantically mixed a potion in the corner of the lavish bedroom. She sprinkled some white powder into the potion, and Magnus’s vision sharpened upon it. “Yin fen?” he whispered, the pupil of his cat eyes expanding, his breath quickening, mouth watering. Yes, yes, he would get his fix. Now, he would be happy, floating without thought, without control.

“No, my sweet pineapple,” Ragnor whispered with uncharacteristic tenderness. “It’s your cure, my love.”

Magnus didn’t want a cure. He wanted Camille. He wanted her bite. He couldn’t live without her. Them.

“Camille…?” he mumbled. 

Ragnor sighed explosively. 

“I found you lying some ways away from my townhouse. Attached to you was a note which said, ‘He has outlasted his use. Care for him now.’ I’m so sorry, pineapple, but she is not to come back.”

Magnus is sure his scream could be heard reverberating around the universe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He moved to the New World. That is where all the excitement is after all. He was also an ocean away from his past. So that’s a bonus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

High Warlock of Brooklyn and owner of a trendy nightclub was not, after all, such a bad life. He hadn’t taken a lover, not for sex, much less emotionally, for nearly a century, no matter how much Catarina prodded at him to get over himself and look for love again.

Love had brought him nothing but pain. He was good, thanks. 

Yes, his lover heart never learnt and ached occasionally, especially in lonesome evenings with nothing but his cat and his heartbreak whiskey on the rocks. Sometimes he would distract himself by visiting Pandemonium, but mostly he had not the energy to lift himself from his chair. At those occasions he would drain every last drop of his whiskey, waltz with the air while his gramophone trilled a tune, and then collapse on the couch. That’s when he would allow the silent tears trail down his face and hit his own shoulders, wetting the fine silk. He didn’t remember when he cried into shoulders other than his own. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The New York Downworld was buzzing with worried whispers. There was talk of The Circle being back, and the Downworld sunk into a state that was reminiscent of the Uprising. Magnus tried to keep the mood upbeat, presiding over his people in The Pandemonium, and tirelessly making house calls to ward people’s house.

He banished Circle members who dared to trade in his club. He patrolled the city at night, keeping watch over his people, because the Shadowhunters could not be trusted. He mediated panicked gang wars between the werewolves and the vampires. He took in lost young Downworlders and guided them to homes. He set the wards over the New York Institute.

Magnus was tired.

But he didn’t mind. He felt useful. He felt like he had purpose other than his mindless hedonism. And if his purpose was to be dedicated to the service of his people, he would happily fulfil that to the end of his years.

Because there were many kinds of love. And he could fill some of the void in his heart with love other than that of the romantic variety. He would be just fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had known Jocelyn Fairchild was trouble, and keeping her daughter away from the knowledge of her heritage was a bad idea. But he did it anyway, because he could not deny the tearful ex-Shadowhunter. And now it had come back to bite him in his (toned, sexy) ass.

And now she was a Shadowhunter? And her mother was in some kind of coma and she needed her memories back?

He had given them over to a memory demon. He told her so. She pleaded with him to help her. From the corner of his eye he perceived a Shadowhunter with the ugly circle rune on his neck sneak up on them. Before he could react, an arrow whizzed past him and got the Circle shadowhunter on the knee with unerring accuracy. He whirled back to see who had shot the arrow, and when he saw the culprit.

Well, he might have been shot in the heart. By Cupid’s arrow. Which are deadly and poisonous.

The archer shot past him, clutching his bow and adjusting his quiver on his shoulder. He reached the fallen Shadowhunter and took his seraph blade, flipping it casually before tucking it into his (sexy) thigh holster. 

Magnus gave himself exactly ten seconds to salivate over this nephilim, and then vanished through his portal, dodging Clary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Urgent meetings with the Raphael, Luke, other warlocks and the Seelie queen concerning the return of Valentine Morgenstern quickly pushed the beautiful nephilim out of his mind. All Children of Raziel had a bland sort of angelic beauty anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A circle member had infiltrated his lair. He taunted Magnus about how he had taken Elias’s horns, and Magnus brutally suppressed the pain of losing a warlock to this nonsense and blasted the interloper with magic to keep him at bay. 

In a scene very similar to a few days ago, an arrow whizzed past him and blasted into the shadowhunter’s chest. Magnus then blasted him with magic to finish him off.

“Well done,” said a husky voice behind him. Magnus smirked mirthlessly, and said, “More like medium rare,” chuckling a bit at his own morbid joke.

He turned around and was his eyes widened at the sight before him: it was the archer from the club. And he was no longer a shadowy figure, as he stepped closer into the light and his features were thrown into sharp relief. And what features they were!

Huge, hazel eyes set in the face in the likeness of a Greek god. Thick, black hair tousled on his head and falling over his forehead. He was incredibly, freakishly tall, with beautifully long legs. His hands were huge, gripping his bow, and Magnus had a sudden fleeting thought about how they would feel on his body. He had a soldier’s stance, and he exuded confidence and strength. 

Magnus shook himself. He would never degrade himself enough to fuck a nephilim, no matter how beautiful they were. He had more important things to do.

Magnus walked up to him and nodded at the nephilim. “Thank you, Shadowhunter, for saving my life. Again.”

The nephilim’s eyes were very obviously checking Magnus out, and he resisted the urge to preen. It was a moment before he replied, in his deep, deep voice, “It was no trouble. It is my job after all.”

Magnus snorted inelegantly. “If you say so, Shadowhunter.”

“It’s Alec. Alec Lightwood.”

Lightwood. Shit. “Are you the son of Maryse Lightwood, perchance?”

Alec nodded warily.

Magnus needed to get away immediately. He would have nothing to do with the spawn of Circle members.

“Excuse me, my people need me,” he said, and shouldered his way past the Shadowhunter.

He heard the “Wait,” but quickened his pace and hurried away.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There has been a change in leadership at the Institute,” Raphael said in one of their weekly meetings. “Maryse and Robert Lightwood have stepped down, and their son has taken their place.”

Magnus pretended to not be interested. “Who is their replacement?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Alexander Lightwood.”

Magnus threw his head back on the backrest.

“I hear he is different,” Raphael continued. “I hear he is more open than his parents. He is also openly gay.”

That made Magnus lift his head up. “I thought homosexuality was banned among the nephilim.”

“Well, word is that he was going to get married to an official from Idris but at the last moment he left the altar and announced his sexuality, and that was that.”

“I’m surprised he wasn’t deruned, to be quite honest. And who is your source?”

“Simon,” Raphael muttered, “he’s been hanging out with Clary Fray, so he knows these things.”

“Ah, the fledgeling,” Magnus said, starting to get tipsy. “You must bring him around some time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He caught his phone before it fell to the ground from the incessant buzzing. The call was from an unfamiliar number. He warily accepted the call.

“Hello, this is Alexander Lightwood from the New York Institute. Remember we met at your house a few days back?”  
“Ah, hello. Yes I do remember. I must congratulate you on your appointment as the Head of the Institute.”

There was a surprised intake of breath from the other end, and then a warm chuckle. “Well, I suppose you have your sources.”

“So how may I help you?”

“I would like to invite you to look over and perform maintenance work for the Institute. Could you please come at your earliest possible convenience?”

A polite summons? That was unheard of. 

“Of course. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Alexander said breathily from the other end. Somehow it seemed a lot more than a professional commitment.

Magnus felt his breath catch in his chest after a century.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Stupid, stubborn nephilim.

He just couldn’t shake off the shadowhunter off his back. Magnus was sure Alexander had more important duties to tend to, but the nephilim just placidly shook his head and offered to keep him company.

The shadowhunter stayed inordinately close to him, his chest just a little away from Magnus’s back, his breath tickling the back of his neck. It sent discreet shivers down Magnus’s spine. He kept up a pleasant conversation too. Alexander didn’t seem to want to be around him to keep a watch on him. He just genuinely wanted to talk. 

He was a curious thing, Magnus had to give him that. An attentive listener, as he first listened to Magnus expound on the magic of the wards, and the gradually drawing him away into a conversation about Magnus’s life. He laughed at all the right moments, and gave disbelieving gasps at the others.

When the wards were done, he immediately transferred Magnus’s payment from the tablet he was always clutching, and then offered to escort Magnus outside.

“I know we just met, but I really did have a good time with you. You seem….sympathetic,” Alexander said hesitantly on the steps of the Institute, hazel eyes a mix of rust browns and forest green, sparkling in the sunlight. “I would like to do this again. With you. But in a more private, um, area?”

Magnus glanced up at his angelic features through his eyelashes, biting his lip, watching Alexander trace that motion with hooded eyes.

“Why would you want to do that?” Magnus whispered. He hadn’t meant to.

Alexander took one of Magnus’s soft, manicured hands into both his huge, rough warrior hands. “Because I’m interested in you Magnus, and I know you are interested in me too. And I want to take it forward. I know you feel what I feel. There is a spark.”

Magnus withdrew his hand with no small amount of trepidation. “I’m sorry, Alexander. I can’t be in a relationship right now. I’ve gotta go.”

Magnus took a deep breath, and turned his head up to properly look at Alexander. His breath hitched at the concern etched on his features. 

At that, Alexander’s face turned to a smirk that looked very, very sexy. He stepped closer to Magnus, till they stood almost toe to toe. His face was so close that Magnus could see all the individual colors of his eyes. “Playing hard to get,” Alexander said in his beautiful, husky voice. “I love a challenge.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexander was suddenly everywhere. Magnus was summoned to the institute far to frequently, to service the wards, for help with a difficult translation, for advice on improving Downworld relations and for myriad more reasons. Alexander always seemed to patrol the area around his house, ‘to protect his favorite warlock.’

At the institute visits, Alexander was nothing but respectful. He always had a cup of fresh coffee and pastries waiting for Magnus whenever he came to the Institute, and kept him company. He didn’t press Magnus for a date, but by Lilith he was maintaining a full attack from other sides that weren’t even subtle.

The coffee and the pastries were just a start. Alexander was always so close. He sometimes guided Magnus by a hand on his lower back, or a gentle touch on his elbow. He talked to Magnus on a myriad of subjects, and as Magnus got to know him better, he realised just how different he was from his parents. He drunk in Magnus’s voice, and actually applied his advice in the Institute to convene a regular Downworld Cabinet, which was a pioneering step forward in Shadowhunter-Downworld relations. 

And the stares, oh Angel, the stares.  
There were many ways that Alexander liked to stare at him. Sometimes he watched Magnus with barely contained lust, pupils dilated in his bright eyes. They made Magnus fidget on the spot and yearn to let go of himself and into Alexander’s ready and waiting arms.

Other times, however, his eyes were soft with affection. At random moments when he thought Magnus wasn’t aware of his stares (which, to be honest, Magnus was always aware of those eyes boring into his back), when he watched Magnus chat and laugh with Isabelle (another strong ally in the Institute and fast becoming one of Magnus’s best friends), and when he silently watched Magnus work.

His eyes would be bright with interest when Magnus talked, and they would frequently rove his face, flicking between his eyes and lips, or checking out his body.

Sometimes he looked like was barely resisting ravishing Magnus where he stood. And sometimes he looked like all he wanted to do was wrap Magnus up in a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and lock him up somewhere safe. It made Magnus want to cry.

So when Alexander asked him out again, after three month of establishing a friendship (and definitely something more), Magnus said yes. And the happiness in his Shadowhunter’s eyes were worth the vestiges of uncertainty in his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After an evening of billiards and some life-changing admissions in the Hunter’s Moon, Alexander walked him back home. There was a chill in the air that made Magnus crowd into Alexander’s side, arms wound around his, burrowing for warmth. Alexander chuckled warmly.

At the door of his apartment building, Magnus was building up the courage to let Alexander go when he turned around and wound his arms around Magnus’s waist, crowding into his space till his face was a hair’s breadth away from his own, noses touching. Magnus swallowed, and Alexander traced the way his Adam’s apple as it bounced up and down.

“I had a great time,” Alexander said softly, his sexy, husky voice making a return. 

“Me too,” Magnus whispered.

And then Alexander kissed him. A soft gentle press of lips at first, and then he pressed harder, nearly bending Magnus back with the force of it. Magnus’s heart nearly stopped, and then started beating double time. Alec gently parted his lips and dipped his tongue into Magnus’s mouth and licked into everything; his teeth, caressing the inside of his cheeks, tangling with his tongue. Alexander’s chest was a searing heat against his, arms winding tighter and tighter around Magnus’s body like a steel band, nearly suffocating him in the best kind of way. After centuries, Magnus thought as he cupped Alexander’s neck and wound his fingers in his thick hair, giving as good as he got, he feels safe.

When Alexander parts from him to breath, Magnus whispers into the sacred air between them: “ Would you like to come upstairs for a nightcap?”

Alexander smiles sweetly at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexander makes sweet love to him that night. Magnus feels trapped between his strong warrior body and the sheets in the best way. He weaves his arms around Alexander’s shoulders and wraps his legs around him and lets Alexander grind against him. He flips Alexander over and admires him in the golden light from his bedside lamp. He swallows Alexander down to the root and swallows around him till Alexander shouts that he’s about to come, and drags Magnus off his cock. He sits up again the headboard and situates Magnus on his lap, and prepares him languidly, kissing and sucking bruises on Magnus’s neck and shoulders while Magnus wrapped his arms around him and dropped kisses into his hair. 

Magnus hasn’t had a cock inside him for untold ages, and the stretch of his hole around Alexander’s dick is the best feeling in the world. But nothing compares to the way Alexander takes a hold of his waist and starts pounding up into him, Magnus’s head lolling helplessly on his shoulder. Alexander flips them over and holds Magnus’s limp body tightly as he begins to pound into him, directly on his prostate. Magnus screams and comes untouched, and Alexander comes moments later. 

Alexander stays inside him for a couple more minutes, kissing him all the while. Magnus has never felt so close to another person before.

Alexander eventually withdraws and cleans them up, and the lays down and pulls Magnus onto his chest and promptly falls asleep. Magnus kisses his chest lovingly and lets sleep claim him too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Alexander and Magnus make waffles together, Alexander insisting on homemade breakfast than Magnus conjuring something up. Alexander pours a boatload of syrup on his waffles and feeds it to Magnus, messily smearing the syrup all over Magnus’s lips. He laughs at Magnus’s disgusted expression and kisses off the syrup, which leads to a makeout session till the waffles go cold. Later they cuddle on the couch.

Alexander cuddles Magnus close and kisses him softly behind his ear. “Hey, Magnus,” he whispers.  
“Hey, Alexander,” Magnus giggles softly, feeling giddy with love, yes, love, and happiness.

“I love you,” Alexander mumbles into his neck, arms tightening around Magnus and hands splayed wide over Magnus’s stomach and chest.

Magnus turns and kisses Alexander, hands tousling up his already messy bedhead. 

He looks deep into Alexander’s eyes for a moment, drowning in them.

He pecks Alexander, and giving him his sweetest, most genuine smile, says, “I love you too, Alexander.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Magnus can stop running now. Maybe he could be happy again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos make the world a better place and everytime you comment, the ecosystem becomes more secure. So do your part for the world, and leave kudos and comments :P


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